What Life is About
by Queen Bookworm the First
Summary: "Life is about two things," her mother whispers. "Love and death."


**Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Round 6**

Team: Wimbourne Wasps

Position: Beater 2

**Prompt: **_Nature. _Write a fic set somewhere surrounded by nature. (eg. The Forbidden Forest, the Forest of Dean, the Mountains where the giants live etc. It doesn't have to be somewhere we see in canon as long as it's set somewhere natural)

**Optional Prompts:**

1\. (word) uncomfortable

4\. (creature) Bowtruckle

15\. (object) picnic basket

Thank you to Esme, who was a wonderful beta!

* * *

She is two years old when she finds out what life is about.

Crimson and orange leaves rustle as a breeze streaks through them. The forest is awake, thrumming with the sounds of fall—water bubbling over pebbles, wood creaking, the soft pit-pats of unicorns' hooves. A soft sigh escapes Fyr's brown lips as she watches her mother Rose. She taps her spindly fingers against the weave of twigs cocooning Rose.

Rose raises her head, her thin frame trembling as she extends an arm. "Come," she says. "Let me tell you something."

Fyr approaches her eagerly, like a moth seeing a flame—except her mother is the moth, dark and weary, while Fyr still thrums with the fire of life.

"Life is about two things," her mother whispers. "Love and death."

"Where do I find them?" Fyr blurts out, her fingers curling around a twig. Love, death—they both sound like little treasures to be found in order to complete the quest of life.

Rose's brown eyes crinkle at their corners as she smiles. "Here. There." She closes her eyes. "Everywhere."

Fyr blinks, her shoulders sinking. "That doesn't explain anything."

Before Rose can open her mouth, the harsh shriek of another bowtruckle cuts through the air. "An ant colony! An ant colony!" The sound of scampering bowtruckles fills the tree.

Fyr eyes her mother with a sullen pout. "You'll have to tell me later. Where they are, I mean. How to find them." She turns and hurries down the tree, eyes brightening as she joins her friends.

Rose watches her leave with a sad smile tugging at her green lips. "I've already given the first one to you," she murmurs. She sighs, settling into her twigs. Her eyes close and slowly, her body stills.

* * *

She is four years old when she almost finds what she thinks is love.

A boy with wild black hair and a girl with hair redder than anything Fyr has seen come walking past Fyr's tree. The girl grumbles, pulling her hand out of the boy's grasp. "You know, when I said we could go out, I didn't mean the Forbidden Forest."

The boy straightens the thin glasses perched upon his nose. "It's the only place I could think of, Lily."

Lily arches a brow. "Really?" She lets out a huff. "What about Hogsmeade?"

The boy offers her a crooked smile. "I can't wait that long for our first date." He pulls a red and white blanket out of his robes and spreads it over the ground. Fumbling through his pockets, he retrieves a picnic basket—Fyr idly wonders how it was able to fit within his robes—and plops down onto the blanket. "Well?" he says, looking up at Lily. "Sit down."

"A picnic, James?" Lily sits on the blanket, pulling her knees up to her chest. She peers at James, her green eyes softening as she smiles. "Of all the places to have a picnic, the Forbidden Forest is the last one I would think of."

James scoots forward, entwining his fingers with hers. "Well, you and I as a couple is also the last thing you would think of."

Lily laughs, and she lets her knees drop. She leans forward. James leans forward. And Fyr leans forward.

Suddenly Fyr is tumbling out of the hollow of her tree, the green blur of leaves giving way to dark brown soil. She lands with a soft _plop_. With a muted grumble, Fyr scampers over to the picnic basket, crouching behind it.

Lily stiffens, her eyes roving over her surroundings. "Are your friends following us?" she asks.

James lifts her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "Of course not. I wouldn't want our first date to be ruined. I love those gits, but I'd rather not have an audience."

Lily sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "All right, then."

James reaches up and holds her face between his hands. Fyr marvels at how small the girl's pale face is cocooned in the large palms of the boy. Her brown eyes glimmer with eagerness as she peers around the side of the picnic basket.

_This is it,_ Fyr tells herself. _This is love. _Her heart thuds against her chest as James and Lily inch closer, lips only a few centimeters apart.

And then Fyr stumbles again, falling face first onto the ground as her fingers fumble for the picnic basket. Lily's green eyes snap to the picnic basket and catch sight of Fyr.

Lily fidgets, biting her lip as an uncomfortable silence settles around them. "Er… James, I think it was watching us." She pulls her knees up to her chest once again.

James groans, eyeing Fyr with annoyance. He rubs the back of his neck as he stands up. "Well, I suppose you don't want an audience, Lily."

Lily pushes herself up to stand beside James. "No, I don't."

"That's a shame. We could've put on a good show," James says, smirking as Lily's cheeks flush. He jabs his wand at the picnic basket and blanket, levitating them into his pocket. "I guess we'll find another clearing."

Fyr's shoulders droop as they amble away. _I could've found love. _Letting out a sigh, she hurries back into her tree.

* * *

She is twenty-four years old when she finds love.

Fyr trembles as she watches red and green lights flash throughout the forest. Acromantulas scuttle around, their black pincers snapping. Centaurs' arrows whistle as they hurtle through the air. Cries and keening wails envelop the forest.

Fyr gathers her son close to her, arms wrapped protectively around him. Tears brim in her eyes as she drinks in the sight of him—his knobby knees, his warm brown eyes, his paper-thin skin.

"Mama?" Aspen asks, his voice shaking. "Are we going to be okay?"

Fyr sucks in a breath. "Yes," she whispers. "Yes, we are." She imagines the sight of Aspen's body cold and unmoving and shudders. She could never bear to see her child die.

And then she realizes it.

_This is love. _

Love isn't all kisses and picnics and holding hands. It's smiles and reassurances and the way her heart warms every time she sees her child.

In the midst of war and death, Fyr finds love. And even though it's not a kiss or a picnic, it makes her smile just the same.

* * *

She is thirty years old when she finds death.

Fyr's green frame shudders as she drags in a breath. Aspen stands at her side, wide-eyed.

Fyr smiles up at him, her two green fingers reaching up to cup her son's face. "Let me tell you something."

Aspen nods, leaning into her touch. He fidgets around as he eyes Fyr apprehensively.

"Life is about two things. Love and death," Fyr says, her voice soft and steady. "You already have the first, and you will find the second in your own time." _Hopefully not for a while, _she thinks.

Aspen's lips part as he gazes at her, bemused.

A faint chuckle escapes Fyr's mouth. "You will understand." She breathes in and out, in and out, quivering with each breath, until no more come, until her body stills and she finds death.


End file.
